Driven to distraction, there's the Rub

In the first of a series focusing on Dunedin and its
people, ODT reporter David Loughrey casts his
quizzical - some would say quirky - eye over a public
transport system about to be left blinking in the harsh light
of public scrutiny. On an epic, but remarkably efficient,
voyage from the suburbs to the city he found the spirit of
Dunedin in the darkened streets of Mornington.

To those brought up in the era of the cheap motor car, public
transport is a little like a sibling who has not lived up to
his promise.

His occupation is less responsible, his home in a poorer
suburb, and his wife dowdier and less sophisticated than your
own.

He is loud and poorly dressed, and holds opinions you dropped
some years ago; opinions that now embarrass you.

But he is family; he has a certain worth, and you would never
hear a bad word spoken of him.

Dunedin's needy sibling is about to undergo something of a
revamp, as transportation boffins work on the draft Otago
regional public transport plan.

While more than one million trips were taken in the last
financial year, patronage has ''plateaued'', and the Otago
Regional Council sees significant barriers in the way of a
good system.

Consultation begins on July 21; the idea is to develop a
quicker and more regular system that reduces travel time,
with less time spent touring the city.

The New Zealand Transport Agency requirement for urban buses
(or Rub, to insiders) has something to say on the matter of
quickness.

One of the Rub's more basic measures relates to acceleration
- buses must be able to lurch from 0 to 50kmh in 30 short
seconds.

In comparison, the Porsche 918 Spyder manages 0 to 100kmh in
2.4 seconds.

But the Porsche would make the grade on neither the
requirement for slip-resistant flooring (standardAS3696.13),
nor the requirement of space for 25kg of strollers, prams or
mobility devices.

It flattens Dunedin into a two-dimensional maze of squares,
circles and intersecting lines, all with sometimes tenuous
links to the thick, multi-coloured spine that is George and
Princes Sts.

These are the ''complexities in the network'' the ORC is keen
to fix.

The bus system, of course, is designed for humans, and it is
the human experience in which we are interested.

Dawn is the best time to catch a bus.

The thin morning air provides the already remarkable aspect
from the hill suburbs with something more; thousands of
winking street lights - the background for dark silhouettes
of brick and plaster standing sentinel on every street, place
and avenue.

A battalion of chimneys backs them up.

But there are matters of practicality that must be observed.

There is bus money, a route, and a timetable to be
negotiated.

Timing with public transport differs from the timing of
personal transport, being far more strictly deadline driven.

Late exits from home are punished by an enforced wait for the
next bus; waiting is part of the experience.

A cartographer mapping the islands of human life waiting by
the bus stop on Glenpark Rd in Mornington recently would have
drawn a pleasingly straight line of souls.

And islands they were - for there are tacit rules of the bus
stop.

One person sits in the half-a-seat provided in the shelter.

The next person stands outside the shelter, about 1.5m away.

The third person stands 1.5m to the left, and the fourth 1.5m
to the left of them.

None talk, eye contact is discouraged and all face forward
towards the road.

This pattern is pre-understood, requires no verbal
communication, and is quietly but rigorously adhered to by
each new arrival.

And how pleasing it is to stand amongst one's fellows;
brothers and sisters all, fully versed in the behavioural
patterns of Dunedin.

There is no communication stronger than such unity of intent,
and no amount of facile chatter could carve a stronger bond
in the heart of a community.

This is what makes us the people of the South; standing at
the apex of a decent, reserved civilisation.

A fare of just $2.70 for a trip to the university is taken by
a driver with bright green fingerless gloves controlling a
metal change tray, a ticket machine and about 10 tonnes of
bus.

The bus heads to town, with (initially) 12 souls gracing its
seats.

The New Zealand Transport Agency requirement for urban buses
(or Rub, to insiders), has something to say about these
seats.

It says leg room is an important feature for passenger
comfort and should be 250mm, measured horizontally from the
front edge of the seat squab to the seat-back in front.

The height from the floor to the top of the front of the seat
cushion should be between 400mm and 500mm, while the height
to the top of the seat-back (excluding any grab handle)
should be 900mm.

More passengers embark as the bus roars through the
semi-darkness; one woman has a mobile phone conversation that
lasts the whole journey, another has dark hair and a red
coat.

A Muslim woman in a head scarf, a schoolboy reading a book
and an Asian girl with sparkly shoes add to the mix of human
cargo, all carrying their hopes, failures, pride and
pretensions as the bus roars past the pharmacies and
convenience stores of a city gearing up for a new day.

As the bus passes the university, it is comforting to pull
firmly downwards on the stop cord.

The New Zealand Transport Agency requirement for urban buses
(or Rub, to insiders), has something to say about these
devices.

It says bus stopping request devices shall be of a
high-visibility contrasting colour to the surround, and with
the surface on which the surround is mounted, and may take
the form of finger/thumb/knuckle push button and horizontal
cordage along the windows of each side of the bus. Cordage
alone is not acceptable.

But the journey is over.

It was quick, clean, warm, efficient and cheap.

The bus stop was just down the road.

The travellers were reserved, quiet, decent, sensibly
dressed, and at no time encroached on each other's personal
space.

And all those aspects are the building blocks for a truly
great Dunedin public transport system.